


What A Load Of Bull

by Cryo_Bucky, velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Bucking bronco, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Misunderstandings, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shameless Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, big dick bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryo_Bucky/pseuds/Cryo_Bucky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: After the fall of Project Insight, the Winter Soldier escapes and tries to discover himself again. This journey ultimately brings him back to New York as a bucking bronco riding stripper, but old sins cast long shadows, and his past isn't done catching up with him.





	What A Load Of Bull

**Author's Note:**

> So this was really all cryo_bucky's idea because she saw [this video](https://youtu.be/oP1VwZErwY4) and was like "MECHANICAL BULL RIDING STRIPPER AU" and I was like "OKAY" and then she made art for it and my life was complete.

HYDRA had fallen.

HYDRA had fallen, and he—the Asset—was free.

He looked around the rubble of the airships, and made his way through the streets, hiding in plain sight. He found a department store with the windows smashed out and looked around before heading inside. 

The store was deserted. The Asset wandered through the racks of the clothing section, picking up clothes in his size. Pants, shirts, jackets, underwear, gloves, hat… then onto the shoes. He found a rucksack and stuffed most of the clothing in there, and got changed into a less conspicuous outfit. After a few moments consideration, he put his tac gear in the rucksack too. Just in case. The boots he kept on. For now, they would do. 

He broke open the first cash register, and narrowed his eyes. Clearly the sales assistants had left in a hurry. He pocketed all the cash in both registers, then wandered back out into the street. That plus the fake passport he always carried should help him get somewhere fast. 

The Asset knew he had to get out of there. HYDRA may have fallen but there would still be people looking for him. He knew how valuable an asset he was. He began walking south, eventually leaving the city.

***

He was on the outskirts of DC when his stomach started to growl. He looked down, confused, before realizing that the feeling meant that he was hungry. He kept walking, and after about an hour spotted a diner. It was nearly deserted; the few people who were there were watching the events in DC unfold on the large TV above the counter, mouths open in awe. He slid onto one of the stools, clearing his throat, and the waitress turned to him. 

“Hey, honey, have you seen this?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice hoarse and scratchy from underuse. “It’s, uh.”

“It’s so awful. All those poor people. They’re saying the death toll could be in the thousands.”

The Asset managed not to react, but only through years of training. “God,” he said quietly.

“I know. So what can I getcha?”

He ordered a burger and a soda, and after a brief consideration ordered an extra side of fries. He didn’t know when he’d next be able to stop for food.

The food, when it came, made his stomach growl. He ate and drank slowly, mindful of his stomach—he didn’t want to make himself sick. The images on the TV were already making him feel nauseated. He knew he had been lied to. This wasn’t the greater good. It couldn’t be. To kill one person, one politician who was a threat—sure. But to take so many innocent lives, lives of civilians not part of the conflict, did not sit well with the Asset. 

He finished his soda and ordered another. The salt on the fries was making him thirsty. 

When he had finished, he wiped his mouth on a napkin and paid. Judging by the price of the food, the money he had stolen should last him at least a few days. He dropped five dollars into the tip jar on the counter, and stood. A man a few seats away from him stood as well. 

“Well, Rachel, honey, I’m sure I’ll see you when I’m in this part of the world again,” the man said to the waitress, who smiled.

“I’m sure you will. Where are you headed now?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina.”

The Asset’s ears pricked up. If he could get a ride, escaping would be easier. 

He approached the man. “Hey, uh, I was wondering if I could catch a ride with you?” he asked the man, who looked up in surprise. “I was supposed to be headed to DC but with everything that’s happening there I figure now probably isn’t the best time.”

The man looked at him consideringly, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? On the condition you buy me a beer once we get to Raleigh.”

“Done.”

The man held out his hand, and the Asset shook it. “I’m Bill,” the man said.

“Alexander,” the Asset replied. It was the first name he could think of, but it would do for now.

Bill led him out to the car park, where a large truck was sitting. “Hop in,” Bill told him, and the Asset did so. “Now you can sleep if you wanna. I’ll have the radio on but it won’t be loud.”

“Thank you,” the Asset said quietly. He figured a short nap wouldn’t do him any harm. He was trained to always keep one ear open, even in sleep, so it wouldn’t be a problem.

He buckled his seat belt and let the rumble of the engine soothe him into slumber.

***

_”Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes…”_

_”Bucky, do as your ma tells you…_

_”Sergeant Barnes, you will be positioned as a sniper…”_

_”Bucky, quit teasing your little sister…”_

_”Bucky…”_

_”Bucky…”_

_”Bucky…”_

“Hey, Alexander!”

The Asset’s eyes flew open and his hand automatically went for his gun before realizing they were still in his rucksack. He blinked and looked at Bill, who was grinning at him.

“How long did I sleep?” the Asset asked hoarsely.

“Three hours. We’re just over half way there, but I gotta stop to refuel, get coffee, and piss. You might wanna do the same.”

The Asset nodded, still confused by his dreams. He climbed out the cab of the truck and did as Bill had suggested. He did feel a lot better after emptying his bladder, and he figured the coffee might keep him a little more alert. 

When they drove off again, however, he pretended to go back to sleep. He didn’t want Bill to ask any awkward questions. 

When they arrived in Raleigh, Bill parked the truck next to a bar. “Remember, you promised me a beer!” Bill said with a grin. The Asset nodded. 

They went inside and ordered their beers. The Asset looked around the crowded bar, the noise from the jukebox in the corner making him wince.

“So you’re not really a talkative guy, huh, Alexander?” Bill said suddenly.

The Asset cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry, never been much of a conversationalist,” he replied. But was that true? He had a sudden flash of being around a group of men in a bar, eyeing up the pretty girls, joking and laughing. But then it was gone and he shook his head to clear it.

“Yeah, my brother in law is like you. Get a few beers in him, though, and he’ll talk your ear off.” They sat quietly for a few minutes, drinking their beer, before Bill laughed. “C’mon, man, you gotta give me something, though. Where are you from?”

“New York,” the Asset said, with certainty, although he wasn’t sure where that certainty came from. “I, uh, I travel a lot, though.”

“For work?”

The Asset shook his head. “No. Just to see places.”

Bill raised his eyebrow. “You rich?”

“No,” the Asset replied, shaking his head. “I work wherever I stop.”

“What do you do?”

The Asset shrugged. “I can fix cars, tend bar. I know a lot about weapons.”

“So you work on gun ranges?”

“I can, yeah,” the Asset said carefully.

“Good to have a lot of different skills,” Bill responded sagely. “Makes life a little more interesting. Me, I like being a trucker. Takes me all over the country, though most of the jobs I’ve been getting recently are in the northeast, which is fine by me. Keeps me closer to home.”

“Home?”

“Richmond, Virginia,” Bill clarified. “The wife likes it when she sees me more than once every six months.”

The Asset nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

Bill drained the last of his beer. “Anyway, I’d better get going and drop off my cargo. You take care, Alexander, you hear?”

The Asset nodded. “You too, Bill.”

Bill left the bar, and the Asset sat alone, nursing his beer.

***

The Asset hitchhiked for days, occasionally stopping at truck stops to eat and find a new ride. He had pretty much settled on Texas as his final destination. It was a big state—big enough to get lost in—and far enough away from DC that it would hopefully take HYDRA a lot longer to find him. 

When he slept, he dreamed. Snatches of conversation, images of faces, and he could only assume that many of them were actually memories. Everyone in these dreams called him ‘Bucky’, so he figured that had been his name. Still, he gave the fake name of Alexander to each driver, just in case.

His last ride took him to Dallas, and as he thanked the trucker, Dave, and stepped out into the humid air, he nodded to himself. This would do nicely.

He found himself a cheap motel, and paid his first night. As he headed to his room, he frowned to himself. He had maybe enough cash for one more night, but that was all. He needed more money, and soon.

Once he was settled, Bucky went out into the city in search of somewhere to eat. He passed a bar, then paused in his tracks and went back. There was a sign hanging outside: “Ride the bronco for cash prizes!” and Bucky hummed to himself. That was definitely a possibility. 

He opened the door and went into the crowded bar, making his way through the throng to find the bronco. At the back of the bar, surrounded by people, was the mechanical bull. Bucky gently pushed his way to the front, watching as person after person was thrown off. 

“Any more takers?” the man beside the bull called, and Bucky put up his hand. The man smiled at him. “Well, come on, son, come and have a go. You ridden one of these before?” Bucky shook his head. “Well, hang on with your knees and keep moving with the motion, is my advice. What’s your name, son?”

Bucky paused, made a split second decision, and smiled back. “Bucky.”

“Bucky!” the man said with a laugh. “Bucky the buckaroo. Alright, son, you get on the bronco and we’ll start you up.”

Bucky climbed on. He had been watching how the mechanical bull moved when the other people were on it, and although it was randomized he figured he could probably stay on for a while.

The bull started to move, and Bucky went with each motion, letting his instincts take over. The crowd was whooping and hollering, but Bucky ignored them, revelling instead in the excitement. 

When the bull finally ground to a halt, the crowd went wild. Bucky climbed off, and the man clapped him on the shoulder, before grabbing his right hand and holding it up. Bucky managed only by clinging on to years of training not to have a panic attack at so much human contact. Considering that most of the contact he’d had over the last however long had been abuse, this approval was strange. It felt good, though. “The current champ, Bucky!” the man shouted, and everyone applauded. “Come with me, and I’ll get you your prize,” the man told him. 

Bucky followed the man, and got given five hundred dollars in cash. “Thank you,” Bucky said gratefully.

“So, hey, you live around here?” the man asked, and Bucky shrugged.

“For now. I’m staying in a motel down the street.”

The man nodded. “Well, I have myself an idea that maybe could make us both some cash. I’m Bob, by the way.”

Bucky shook his hand. “What’s your idea?”

“You’re good on the bronco, man. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone ride it like that their first time. Think you could do some tricks on it?”

“What kind of tricks?” Bucky asked.

“Whatever kinds of tricks you can think of. We could take bets on how long it would take for you to fall off and split our winnings. What do you think?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah? Great! Come back around ten a.m. tomorrow before we open and we’ll see what you can do.”

They shook hands again, and Bucky went back out onto the street, five hundred dollars richer and with the prospect of more. 

***

The following day, at ten a.m. sharp, he knocked on the door of the bar. Bob let him in, grinning.

“So have you thought about what kinds of tricks you might do?” Bob asked, and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then show me what you’ve got!”

Bucky climbed on the mechanical bull and Bob started it up. Bucky rode it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and pushing himself to his feet on the bull’s back. He rode the bull standing up, occasionally hopping onto the bull’s head before returning. 

Suddenly, the bull bucked hard, and Bucky slipped and fell off, luckily still landing on his feet thanks to his superior balance. 

Bob stared at him for a few moments, before beginning to clap, whooping. “My god, son, that was amazing. How did you do that?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve always had good balance.”

“I’ll say you have! My god. We’re gonna make some good money, you and me!”

***

The first night, they made three hundred dollars each. The next, four. As more and more people heard about the show, they piled into the bar, wanting to see Bucky perform. By the third weekend they were clearing seven hundred each, and Bucky was also being given a cut of the bar takings because of how much custom he was bringing in. 

It was lucrative, but Bucky was getting tired of the oppressive heat of Texas. After his show, men and women alike would approach him, flirting, but Bucky was too wary to take them up on their offers. His metal arm was an issue, but he wasn’t even sure he had a sex drive. He never even masturbated. 

He wondered if he’d always been like that, but had the feeling he hadn’t. He had memories of soft skin and a woman’s high pitched moaning which didn’t really make sense in any other context. 

About two months in, he noticed a man watching him closely as he performed. On high alert, he wished he had at least one of his guns with him. If the guy was HYDRA… well. That was his cover blown.

When the show was over, he made his way through the grumbling gamblers to the bar, and ordered a Diet Coke. The man who had been watching him appeared at his side.

“What are you drinking?” the man asked easily.

“Soda,” Bucky replied, taking a sip. 

The man nodded thoughtfully. “Carl.”

He stuck out his hand, and Bucky shook it. “Bucky.”

Carl grinned. “Is that a stage name?”

“Nope,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “Just my name.”

“Well, I have a lucrative proposition for you, Bucky.” Carl smiled wide. “If you happen to be looking for a change of scene.”

“What kind of change?”

“New York. You ever been?”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. “I’m from Brooklyn,” he confessed. 

“Even better. If you’re looking to go home, I own a bar there. I think you’d do well.”

“What kind of bar?”

Carl laughed. “A strip bar. But don’t let the idea put you off. It pays well—everyone has a gimmick. Think you could strip while you ride one of those things?”

“Sure,” Bucky replied with a shrug. “How well does it pay?”

“We’ll start you on four hundred a night. What tips you get, you keep. How does that sound?”

Bucky thought for a moment. Going back to New York might be risky, but he was tired of Texas. And the money did sound good—even better than what he was making here, if he worked more than three nights a week. 

“Sure, why not,” he said at length. “The only thing is, I, uh. I have a prosthetic.”

Carl looked at him curiously. “I thought I saw you use both your hands?”

“It’s Starktech,” Bucky said quickly. “Metal. Still want me for your show?”

Carl grinned. “Sure! What’s one extra gimmick?” He clapped Bucky on the back. “Give your notice here and we’ll meet up in New York. You okay flying?”

Bucky shook his head. “Can’t fly. Terrified of those things.” It was a lie, of course; he was more worried about getting his weapons and arm through security.

“Well, you make your way up however you can and give me a call when you’re in the city.” Carl handed him a card. “Looking forward to working with you, Bucky.”

Carl left, and Bucky stared down at the card.

He was going home.

***

Bob was annoyed but resigned when Bucky said he was quitting and going back home. “You sure I can’t tempt you to stay? I thought we were making good money.”

“We were,” Bucky admitted. “But I want to go back. Texas is too hot for me.”

Bob sighed. “Fair enough. I can’t stop you, I guess. But it’s a real shame.”

Bucky agreed to work one more night before he moved on, and people came from miles around to see ‘The Buckaroo’s Last Night In Texas!”. He made it a good one, and when the bull stopped a cheer went up so loud he was momentarily deafened. 

Everyone wanted a piece of him. People were plying him with offers of drinks, as well as offers of sex. Bucky just wanted to get out of there. 

He finally managed to escape to the office, where Bob was waiting. “Well, here’s your cut,” Bob said, his mouth twisted in an expression of regret. “Good luck, Bucky. If you’re ever in town again, you look me up, you hear?”

“Yeah. I will.”

They shook hands, and Bucky left out the back, money in his pockets. He’d leave the next day.

***

Two buses later, he was in Louisiana. New Orleans was even more oppressively hot than Texas, if that was possible. He walked quickly from the bus terminal to the train station, and bought a ticket to Penn station. He just had enough time to find the platform and hop on before the guard was blowing his whistle and they were off. 

The journey took nearly seven hours; Bucky allowed himself to sleep for most of it, although he remained alert even as he slept. The train was noisy—people talking on cell phones, children screaming, babies crying—but Bucky had slept through worse. He dreamed about war, about sleeping as shells fell nearby. He woke up briefly and wondered what war he’d been in. He knew it was a long time ago, and that he’d been put into cryo multiple times, but he didn’t know exactly when he’d been taken by HYDRA. 

When the train arrived at Penn station, he grabbed his rucksack and headed to Brooklyn. He figured it was where he belonged. Besides, the club where he would be working was in Brooklyn, and he didn’t really want a long commute. 

He had managed to save a few thousand dollars while in Texas, but when he went to look at rental prices in a newspaper, he was floored. The cheapest places seemed to be shared apartments.

Bucky considered this. It might be good for him to be around other people more. He circled a couple, and nodded. It was as good a place to start as any.

***

He found a place on East 57th Street. The people he would be living with seemed nice, and the landlord was pretty laid back. “As long as you pay your rent on time, I don’t really care who you are,” he told Bucky, when Bucky offered him his passport. “But thanks.”

Bucky signed a couple of forms with his fake name, and the landlord grinned. “When do you want to move in?”

“Uh, now?” Bucky asked.

“That’s fine,” the landlord said with a laugh. “But I’ll need the first month’s rent up front.” Bucky took 700 dollars out of his backpack and gave it to the landlord. “Good doing business with you, Daniel,” the landlord said cheerfully.

“Uh, I go by Bucky.”

“Huh. Well, Bucky, let me know if you have any issues. Here’s my card. But you’re all good to move in!”

Bucky thanked him and went through to his room. _His_ room. His own space. 

He unpacked his meager belongings and then went through to the kitchen. One of his roommates, a girl called Elise, was in there already, eating breakfast cereal even though it was four in the afternoon.

“Hey!” she greeted him cheerfully. “Daniel, right?”

“Hi, yeah. People just call me Bucky, though.”

“Awesome.” She took another spoonful of cereal. “So what do you do, Bucky?”

“I, uh…” Bucky trailed off, and Elise grinned.

“Don’t tell me—you’re a spy!” She laughed, and Bucky smiled weakly.

“No, uh, I’m going to be working at The Landing Strip,” he said, hands twisting nervously.

Elise raised an eyebrow. “Behind the bar, or…?”

“Nope.” Bucky shook his head. “I’m, uh, a dancer. Kinda.”

“That’s so awesome!” Elise said, crunching around another spoonful. It was a little gross, but somehow endearing. “So everyone there has a gimmick, or so I’ve heard. What’s yours?”

“Riding a mechanical bull while I strip. Oh, and I have a metal arm.”

Elise gasped. “Oh my god, really? I didn’t know they made functional metal prosthetics.”

“It’s, uh, Starktech.”

“You know Tony Stark?” Elise’s voice had got so high pitched that Bucky was pretty sure any higher and she’d attract all the dogs in the neighborhood.

“Nah, sorry. I was just lucky.”

“Still cool, though.” Elise ate her last mouthful of cereal and rinsed the bowl in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher. “I might have to come and see you perform!”

“Sure.” Bucky paused. “Where’s the nearest grocery store?”

Elise smiled and gave him directions, and he left the apartment to buy groceries. 

When he returned, he unpacked the food into the refrigerator and the cupboards he’d been told were for his use. He’d also passed a store where he’d bought crockery and cutlery, as well as some bedding, so he figured he was set for a while.

When he was settled, he called Carl.

_“Hey, Bucky! Good to hear from you, you in New York yet?”_

“Hey, Carl. Just got in today and found myself an apartment.”

_“Wow, that was fast! You wanna come to the club at eleven a.m. tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to the team before opening?”_

“Sounds good.”

_”Okay! See you tomorrow morning!”_

Bucky ended the call and took a deep breath. He could do this. 

***

The following morning, Bucky made his way down to The Landing Strip, arriving just before eleven. There was a short, skinny blond guy waiting around already, intent on his phone. He was… Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He was gorgeous, in a delicate kind of way. Bucky felt a pit of want open up in his chest, and swallowed it down. That kind of complication was the last thing he needed. 

Bucky cleared his throat, and the guy looked up, eyes widening when he saw Bucky. “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” the guy asked cautiously. 

Bucky smiled, holding out his hand. “I'm-I’m Bucky. I'm starting here today.”

“Oh! Right, yeah! Carl said we had someone new starting, but uh.” The guy cleared his throat and shook Bucky's hand. “I'm Steve. I work behind the bar.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Bucky said politely, his mouth drying up at the feel of Steve's slightly calloused skin against his own. 

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and Bucky felt as though electricity was sparking between them. 

“Hey guys!” Carl called from behind Steve, and the moment was broken. “I see you two have met already. The others should be here any minute, so why don't we go inside and talk?”

Bucky and Steve nodded, and Carl unlocked the door and led them inside. 

Bucky had brought his passport, which was lucky as Carl asked to see it when they sat down to go through his contract. “Daniel Travis, huh? How did you get Bucky from that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It's a childhood nickname.”

“Fair enough. So hey, if you're happy with the contract, you have a copy and I'll have a copy so there's no issues.”

Bucky skimmed through the contract briefly and nodded, before signing both copies as Daniel Travis in his loopy scrawl. 

Carl led him back out to the bar, where Steve was sitting with eight other guys. 

“Hey, everyone, meet Bucky! Bucky, this is Dave, our head bartender; Stuart, who also tends bar; Pete, whose gimmick is gymnastics; Scott, who dresses as a fireman—he's really good with a pole.” They all laughed, and Carl grinned. “Andrew—he strips while making cocktails. Roger, who does magic tricks; John, who clowns around; and Graham, who works on finance and I have yet to convince to perform.”

“Not gonna happen!” Graham called with a laugh, and everyone chuckled. 

“Steve, you've already met. And that's the team!”

“So what's your gimmick, Bucky?” Roger asked. 

“I, uh, do tricks on a mechanical bull.”

Everyone's eyes widened. “Wait, that's why we got in the bucking bronco?” John said. “That's amazing, man. Can we get a preview?”

Bucky looked at Carl, who shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Bucky shrugged off his jacket, shoes, and socks, and went over to the mechanical bull, sitting on it while Carl switched it on. Stripping as he rode it was a little more complicated than he'd anticipated, but he got through it, and when he jumped off, clad only in his boxers, the other guys began whooping and applauding. 

Steve had joined in, but his face was flushed a deep rosy hue, and Bucky wondered. 

“That was great, Bucky!” Carl said, laughing. “You’re gonna be such a hit with the customers. You good to start tonight?”

“Sure,” Bucky replied.

“Awesome. I’ll show you around back, see what we can find to fit you. We have Velcro pants so they’ll be easier to take off, and we’ve got some pretty sexy underwear for you.” Carl winked as he led Bucky through backstage into a dressing room. He picked up a pack from one of the drawers, throwing it to Bucky, who caught it and looked at it, eyes wide. In it was a pair of what looked like pretty tight briefs, with the American flag on them. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m nervous now,” Bucky replied, still staring at the briefs. 

Carl clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be. You look even better without your clothes on than I’d hoped—people are gonna love you.” He paused, smiling. “You glad to be back?”

Bucky nodded. “You know, I really am.”

***

He went home and showered, then stood in front of the mirror, taking a deep breath. Razor in hand, he looked down at his pubic hair, covered in shaving foam. He couldn’t believe that he was about to do this, but the internet called it ‘manscaping’ and if he was going to be wearing those tiny briefs he was going to have to do something. He took another deep breath and started shaving. 

When he arrived at The Landing Strip, he went in the back door as he had been instructed, and headed through to the changing rooms. Pete, Andrew, and Roger were already in there, joking and laughing. 

“Hey, Bucky!” Andrew called, and Bucky raised his hand in greeting. “You ready for your first show?”

“I think so,” Bucky said slowly. “Um, where can I…?”

Roger grinned. “Just the one changing room, I’m afraid. You’re not shy, are you?”

Bucky shrugged. He wasn’t, not really—years of control under HYDRA meant that his naked body had been seen by multiple people over the years—but it still felt odd. Nevertheless, he began to shrug off his own clothes. When he got down to his boxers, he took a deep breath and pulled them off, snatching up the briefs and pulling them on quickly.

Apparently not quickly enough.

“Jesus, Bucky,” Pete said, whistling. “Once you get out there no-one is gonna wanna see us if that’s what you’re packing.”

Bucky blushed, much to his surprise. “Um, what do you mean?”

Pete grinned. “I mean, if I wasn’t in a committed relationship, I’d be propositioning you to try and get my hands on that substantial all-American meat you’ve got there. My god. Tell me you’re not a grower too.”

Bucky blushed even harder, and quickly pulled on the rest of his stage clothes as Carl came backstage. “Okay, Andrew, you’re on first, then Pete, then Bucky—we’ll put you third so that the crowd are at the stage where they’re more accepting of a newcomer. Oh, don’t worry,” he added off of Bucky’s look,”they’re gonna love you anyway.”

“You have no idea,” Roger said, laughing, and Bucky just wanted to up and hide. Instead, he sat on one of the comfortable chairs to wait for his turn. 

The guys were nice—including Bucky in their conversation without ever making him feel like he was obligated to contribute. Even from backstage, Bucky could hear the noise from the bar, and his palm was starting to sweat. He wiped it on his pants, and he got a sympathetic look from Andrew as he walked towards the stage door.

The noise when Andrew opened the door was almost deafening. Bucky took a few deep breaths. He had been in more stressful situations than this one. He had. He could do this, no problem. 

When his turn came, Bucky swallowed hard and sashayed onto the stage. For his first time out, Carl had bought him a cowboy outfit, and although his feet were bare he swaggered like he was wearing cowboy boots. The crowd cheered a little, but nothing like the same reception as Andrew and Pete had got. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut, then sat on the mechanical bull. 

The music started, and so did the bull. Bucky exhaled loudly, and jumped up to stand on the bull’s back as it moved. The crowd perked up, interested, and Bucky began to perform. First the waistcoat, then the shirt, all slowly, teasing out the moments. As soon as his shirt was off, the crowd went nuts. Bucky smirked into the audience, running both hands slowly down his own chest to his pants. He did a particularly tricky leap from the bull’s head to its back, then spun around and whipped off the pants. 

The roar from the crowd was everything Bucky never knew he wanted. He continued to ride the bronco, clad only in those ridiculous Stars and Stripes briefs, then jumped off, landing gently on his feet. He got on his knees and crawled to the front of the stage, where a woman excitedly pushed a wad of notes into the waistband of the briefs. He winked at her and got up, wiggling his butt as the last bars of the music played.

The lights went off and the crowd went wild. Bucky headed backstage, grinning, as Carl announced, “Bucky the buckaroo, everyone!”

The other guys clapped him on the back when he walked back into the changing room. Roger gave him a thumbs up as he himself went onto the stage, and Bucky flopped onto one of the chairs.

“So, cowboy,” Pete said with a grin, “how did that feel?”

“It felt good,” Bucky replied. “It felt really good.”

***

After his second dance, he was still in his briefs when the door opened and Steve, the barman, came in with a tray of drinks. He blushed when he saw Bucky sprawled in his chair, and Bucky felt his face go red, wishing he had covered himself up. 

“Uh, just thought you guys must be thirsty,” Steve babbled, setting the tray down on the table. 

“Thanks, Steve,” Bucky said softly, and Steve nodded quickly before rushing back out. Bucky looked up to see Andrew and Pete looking at each other knowingly. “What?” he asked.

“Our little Steve likes the new boy,” Pete said with a smirk. “And I think the new boy might just like him back.”

Bucky’s mouth went dry. “I don’t… I mean, it’s not…”

“If you say you don’t like guys you’re a liar,” Andrew said, snorting.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… it’s been a while,” Bucky said carefully. “I have some issues.”

“Oh, honey.” Pete sat on the arm of Bucky’s chair, patting him on the shoulder. “Everyone has issues. It’s how you deal with them that’s important.”

Bucky nodded, although he really just wanted to go back to his apartment and deal with these new feelings. 

He danced a few more times that night, collecting about 90 dollars in tips. As he left, he bumped into Steve. “Sorry!” Steve said quickly.

“No, it was my fault, I’m sorry,” Bucky responded. 

Steve looked up at him through long eyelashes. “So, uh, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, do you want to maybe get some coffee?”

“Steve, I…” Bucky began, but Steve shook his head.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything.” He strode away quickly, putting in earbuds before Bucky could call him back.

Shit.

***

When he got home, Bucky went straight into the shower. He felt slightly grimy from crawling mostly naked over the stage floor. As he stood under the warm spray, he thought about Steve, walking away from him, and wondered what Steve’s gimmick would be if he was a performer. That led to thoughts of what Steve would look like in Stars and Stripes briefs himself, skinny and pale, with only a small amount of fabric stretching over his cock. Bucky ran his hand down his chest to his own cock, surprised to find himself already half hard. He stroked himself experimentally, and his cock jumped in his hand. He bit his bottom lip, stroking himself a little more surely, pressing his metal hand against the tile to balance himself. 

He let his thoughts drift to peeling those briefs off of Steve—what Steve’s cock would look like, how it would feel in his hand. He could feel himself getting too close too fast, and drew his hand down to play with his balls, eking out his pleasure. He thought about Steve on his knees, those beautiful blue eyes looking at him through those long eyelashes, as he mouthed up Bucky’s cock. 

Bucky swiped his palm over the head of his cock, spreading around the precome there, and began to stroke himself again. This time he went with the pleasure, imagining Steve under him, what he would feel like inside, or maybe fucking Bucky…

His orgasm overtook him suddenly, and he gave a soft cry as he came. “Fuck,” he muttered, letting the water run over his face for a few moments before washing quickly and getting out.

***

That night, he dreamed of his victims, and woke up with tears soaking his pillow. 

***

The following night, Bucky tried to get Steve alone to explain himself, maybe ask him if he still wanted to get coffee, but Steve seemed to be avoiding him. He wouldn't even look Bucky in the eye. Bucky wondered if Steve was embarrassed that he'd put himself out there and been turned down, and that thought bothered him a lot. He didn't want Steve to feel bad, and definitely didn't want Steve to feel like he had to avoid Bucky. 

Unfortunately, Steve seemed determined, and a few nights later Bucky still hadn't managed to talk to him alone. 

He was sitting in the dressing room in his briefs, sighing, when John sat next to him. “Hey, Bucky, what's up?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing. It's fine,” he lied. 

“Uh huh. This wouldn't have anything to do with our little blond bartender, would it?”

“Why, uh, why would you think that?”

John laughed, and Scott snorted from across the room. “Maybe because you've both looked pretty miserable for the last few nights?” John said. “Come on, man, talk to me. What happened?”

Bucky frowned. “It's just. Steve asked me out for coffee, and I was gonna ask for a raincheck and explain some stuff to him, but he thought I was just turning him down and now he's avoiding me.”

“Hmm.” John looked at him seriously, which was hard to take when he was dressed as a clown. “Yeah, that sounds like our Steve. He doesn't put himself out there that often.”

“So how do I fix this?” Bucky asked, frustrated. 

“Leave it to us,” Scott told him, winking. 

***

After his last dance, Bucky was pulling off his briefs when the door opened and in walked Steve. Steve's eyes immediately went to Bucky's crotch and he gasped. Bucky quickly turned away, pulling his boxers on as speedily as he could without falling over. 

“S-sorry,” Steve stammered. “Uh, Scott said you wanted to talk to me?”

“I did. I mean, I do,” Bucky replied. “I just figured I'd be wearing more clothes.”

“I don't mind,” Steve said quietly. 

Bucky looked up at Steve, before making a split second decision. He strode up to Steve and pulled him into a kiss. 

Steve's arms wrapped around Bucky's waist and he moaned as the kiss deepened. Bucky could feel his cock stirring at the feel of Steve pressed up against his half naked body, and he moved his hips back. But Steve slid his hands down to Bucky's ass, pulling him closer. 

“Fuck, thought you didn't want me,” Steve murmured against Bucky's lips. 

Bucky pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “I do. I just… I have a lot of baggage, and I didn't want you to go into something with your eyes closed.”

Steve's expression softened and he kissed Bucky again. “Everyone has baggage. But I kinda don't care. I like you a lot, Bucky.”

“I like you a lot too,” Bucky confessed. 

“Hmm, I really want to take you home tonight, but I get the feeling we should probably take this slow,” Steve said, smiling. “So. Coffee tomorrow?”

“I'd like that.”

They exchanged cell phone numbers, and Steve kissed Bucky again. “Okay. I'd better get back out there and clean up. But, uh. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, unable to keep from smiling. 

When Steve was gone, he pulled the rest of his clothes on quickly, a grin on his face. He couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

***

They'd arranged to meet at 11 at a coffee shop not far from Bucky's apartment, and Bucky arrived about fifteen minutes early, waiting with his coffee anxiously. 

At 11.05, Steve rushed into the coffee shop, spotting Bucky and dashing over to him. “Oh my god, sorrysorrysorry,” Steve babbled. “I got caught up drawing and lost track of time.”

“It's fine.” Bucky paused. “You draw?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I'm actually an artist by day, bartender by night.” He gave Bucky a half smile. “I went to art school, which was great, but unless you're famous it's hard to make much money from art alone. Hence bartending.” He looked shyly at Bucky. “I'd love to draw you one day.”

Bucky smiled. “I'd like that.”

“Maybe tomorrow? If you're free.”

“Yeah, that would be really cool.”

They smiled at each other, and Bucky took a sip of his coffee. Steve went up to get his own, and Bucky watched him surreptitiously as he waited in line. 

When Steve got back to the table, they spoke casually about the bar—about the guys who worked there, about the job. Bucky ended up telling Steve how Carl discovered him in Texas, and Steve laughed. 

“You must have really good spacial awareness and balance,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Bucky shrugged. “I guess.”

When they had finished their coffee, Steve reached across the table and took Bucky’s hand. “I’m glad you agreed to come out with me today,” he said softly. 

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand. “Me too.”

***

Bucky quickly got into a routine over the next couple of weeks—meeting with Steve during the day, and working at the bar at night. He began noticing regulars, including a red haired woman who looked almost familiar. One night she came with a dark haired man who was wearing sunglasses, even indoors. They were sitting at the front of the stage that night, and the redhead tipped him well while giving him a piercing look. It took Bucky aback somewhat, but he smiled at her and kept dancing. 

He and Steve were still taking things slowly; they had held hands, and kissed on Steve’s sofa until they were both breathless and hard, but never any further. Bucky knew that Steve was waiting until he was ready, but he also knew exactly what was holding him back. He hated that he had lied to Steve about who he was—hated that Steve thought he was Daniel Travis, year of birth 1984. He wished he could be honest with Steve, but didn’t even know how to start the conversation.

***

He’d been working at the club for almost a month, and it was going well. He’d made more tips that night than ever before—nearly 200 dollars—and was riding high from the kiss he’d shared with Steve before he’d left.

Which was probably why he never noticed the van until it was too late and had already screeched to a halt beside him. The door flew open and before he could run, someone in a black mask shot him with a taser and he went down hard. They climbed out the van with another masked assailant and grabbed him, tugging a bag over his head and taping his hands behind his back before dragging him into the van.

He began to yell, then felt a pinch on his neck, and everything faded to black. 

***

Bucky’s eyes flew open at the feel of the cold water drenching him. He spluttered, and narrowed his eyes, looking into the face of the red headed woman from the club. 

“Hey,” she said casually. 

Bucky felt sick. He knew he should have been more careful. “HYDRA?” 

She laughed. “Don’t you watch TV ever? We’re the ones hunting HYDRA. The Avengers. Which is how we found you, Sergeant Barnes.” She narrowed her eyes. “So how about you tell me what HYDRA’s plans are, putting you in that strip club.”

Bucky laughed hollowly. “I’m not HYDRA. I escaped them when Project Insight fell. I assumed you were them, come for me.”

The woman froze. “You… escaped?” She bent down to him slightly. “You broke your conditioning?”

“Well, yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “It was never that stable anyway. They had to keep wiping me because I kept remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

“Who I was.”

“And who are you?” she asked, a hint of mockery in her tone.

Bucky sat up as straight as he could. “I’m Bucky.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

As she stared at him, making him feel somewhat like an animal in a zoo, the dark haired man with sunglasses came in.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said a little too casually, before backhanding Bucky across the face.

“Tony,” the woman said, her tone a warning, and Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Natasha, he killed my mom. When I’m done with him that’s gonna look like a love tap.”

Natasha put her hand on Tony’s arm. “Come on. He was brainwashed. He just told me that they kept having to ‘wipe’ him because he kept remembering who he was. We don’t know what they did to him, how they kept him under their control, but he claims he escaped them when Project Insight fell.”

“And you believe him?” Tony scoffed. 

Natasha gave Bucky a long look. “I do.”

Tony glared at Bucky. “Tell me you remember killing my parents. Tell me you’re sorry.”

“Who were your parents?” Bucky asked softly.

“Maria and Howard Stark.”

“Howard Stark…” Bucky remembered Howard Stark from during the war, but… Suddenly, he was hit with a memory—driving a car off the road with his motorcycle, killing the couple inside, and the man… the man called him ‘Sergeant Barnes’. Howard Stark. Tony Stark’s father.

Bucky looked up at Tony, his eyes filled with tears. “I remember them.”

A flash of pain crossed Tony’s face, before his expression went blank. He reached into his pocket and drew out a gun.

Natasha dived at him, pushing his arm as he fired, and Bucky felt whitehot pain through his right shoulder as the bullet went in.

“Tony, what the fuck are you doing?” Natasha yelled.

“He killed my mom!” Tony shouted back, aiming again. Natasha wrestled the gun from him, and took out the magazine, pocketing both. 

“Tony, I know. And what he did was wrong. But this is not the way. Listen to me!” Natasha shook Tony by the shoulders. “He was not himself when he did these things. I’ve read his file. So have you. You know this. The people you want revenge on are HYDRA. Not him.”

“Why?” Tony asked Bucky quietly. “Why did they make you kill them?”

“They wanted the serum,” Bucky replied hoarsely. “The serum to make supersoldiers. He had it in a case in the trunk.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. “And did they make supersoldiers?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Yeah. But they couldn’t control them so they kept them in cryo.”

“We have to find them and neutralize them,” Natasha told Tony quietly.

“I can tell you where they are. It’s where I was kept for… a long time.” Bucky took a deep breath. “I’m not a danger to anyone. I swear. I just want to live the life I never got to live. The life they took from me.”

Natasha nodded, and went to Bucky, cutting his bindings.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Tony asked, and Natasha gave him a look.

“It’s fine. He’s telling the truth. Plus he needs medical attention.”

Tony’s expression tightened, then he relaxed. “Fine. I’ll see to his wound. But one wrong move and I will kill him.”

Bucky was careful to try not to make any sudden movements as Tony gave him a local anesthetic, before digging out the bullet. He cleaned and dressed the wound, then scanned it.

“What’s the damage?” Bucky asked hoarsely, sitting up on the table.

Tony shrugged. “You should heal up fine. I’m guessing you heal pretty fast anyway.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I do. Um. Thanks,” he added.

“For what?” Tony asked, surprised. “For trying to kill you or for fixing a bullet wound I gave you?”

“Definitely the latter,” Bucky replied. “Look, can I go yet?”

Tony shook his head. “We’ve gotta make sure you’re genuinely not a threat first.”

“Well, can I at least get my phone back so I can call someone?”

“Who would you call?”

Bucky blushed. “My, uh. My boyfriend.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before laughing. “Are you serious? The Winter Soldier found himself a boyfriend?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Tony sat on the chair next to Bucky. “So what’s his name?”

“Steve,” Bucky replied, aware that he was grinning goofily but unable to stop. “He’s a bartender at the club, and he’s, uh. He’s really great.”

Tony looked at him for a long moment. “So he’ll be pretty worried about you, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s probably wondering why I haven’t replied to his messages.”

“Okay.” Tony took Bucky’s phone from his pocket and handed it to him. Bucky looked at it helplessly.

“Uh, I can’t use the touchscreen right now,” he said sheepishly.

Tony sighed and took the phone back, tapped the phone a few times, then gave it back. Bucky looked at the screen; it was ringing out to Steve. He gave Tony a half smile and held the phone to his ear. 

_“Bucky? Where the hell have you been?”_

Steve sounded panicked, and Bucky winced. “Hey, Steve. I’m okay. There was a little misunderstanding with the Avengers, but I’m okay.”

_“The Avengers? Where are you right now?”_

“Uh, good question. I’m not entirely sure. Look, I’ll explain everything when I see you, I promise. There’s… there’s a lot to say. And could you please let Carl know I won’t be at work for a little while, while I sort this out?”

_“Okay. Keep in touch?”_

“I’ll try, I swear.” The words _I love you_ were on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back. It was too early for that; and besides, he had to come clean with Steve before he made any declarations.

He ended the call, and made to give the phone back to Tony, but Tony shook his head. “Nah, you keep that. It’s not like we’re not going to be keeping an eye on you while you’re here.”

Bucky nodded and pocketed the phone. “You said… Natasha said there was a file,” he said hesitantly.

Tony looked at him curiously. “You wanna see it? It’s in Russian.”

“That’s not a problem.” He took a deep breath. “Does it say much about who I was? Before?”

“Yeah, it does.” Tony gave him an understanding look. “How is your memory?”

“Patchy,” Bucky said, shrugging. “I remember my name, and that I was in a war, and I remember a bunch of stuff from my time as the Asset, but there are a lot of gaps. I think…” He frowned. “I think I remember my parents? And I think I had a little sister?”

“Come on,” Tony said gently. “Come read your file.”

***

Tony took him to a room and raked around in a filing cabinet for a while before emerging with a Manila folder. Bucky took it, hands shaking slightly, and opened it up, scanning the Russian text inside. 

_Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Born March 10, 1917. Son of George and Winifred Barnes. Younger sister: Rebecca Barnes. Former soldier in the 107th Regiment._

Bucky looked up at Tony, tears in his eyes as his memories flooded in. “I… I remember,” he choked out. “Fuck, my little sister, little Becca. She’s probably gone by now, they’ll all be gone.”

Tony winced. “I could look to see if she’s still alive?”

“What would I say to her if she was?” Bucky asked, his tone becoming slightly hysterical. “Hey, Becca, it’s your brother returned from the dead, but hey, I’m still only about 30 years old because they stuck me in cryo for the better part of seventy years. That sounds great.”

“Maybe the first step is just finding out if she’s around. Then you can decide what to do with that.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

***

He spent two days with Tony and Natasha, rediscovering his past and allowing Tony to do some blood tests on him. 

“Your arm is amazing,” Tony told him as he inspected it. “It’s attached to your muscles and nerve endings. Can you actually feel with it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky replied. “Not in the same way as I can with my other hand, but yeah. It’s hard to explain.”

“Amazing.”

Bucky sighed. “So are you ever gonna let me go home?”

Tony and Natasha looked at each other. “You can go whenever you like,” Natasha said eventually. “But we have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?”

“Join the Avengers,” Tony said quickly. “We could use someone with your strength and skills on our team.”

“Can I think about it and get back to you?”

“Of course,” Natasha said. “But just think about getting your revenge on HYDRA.”

Bucky paused thoughtfully. She made a good point. And the fact remained he still had to make sure his trigger words were never used against him ever again. 

“Okay,” he said, exhaling loudly. “I’ll join your team.”

Tony and Natasha grinned at him. “So when do you want to move in?” Tony asked. 

“Excuse me?”

Tony shrugged. “One of the perks of being an Avenger—you get to live at Stark Tower rent free. And you get your own bathroom.”

“Huh.” Bucky thought about his roommates at the apartment—he liked them, they got on well, but having his own bathroom would be great. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed after a pause. “Can I keep my job at the bar?”

“No,” Tony replied, shaking his head. “You’ll be fully funded by me.”

Bucky frowned. But then, it might mean that he could bring Steve here to stay one day. 

He sighed. “Okay. Deal.”

“Awesome,” Natasha said, clapping Bucky on the back. “Good to have you on board. You can move your stuff in whenever you like.”

“Give me a week?” Bucky said slowly. “A week, and then I’ll join you.”

“Okay, no problem. Do what you gotta do.” Natasha smiled at him, and he smiled back. 

***

When he arrived back at his apartment, Elise was in the kitchen. She flung herself on him as soon as he was in the door, and he patted her on the back carefully. 

“Um. Hi?”

“Oh my god, where have you been?” Elise babbled. “We’ve been so worried about you, you just disappeared for two whole days!”

 _Oh_. “I’m so sorry, I should have called. I met up with some friends and was staying with them. In fact”—he took a deep breath—“I’m moving in with them next week.”

Elise’s face fell. “You’re not gonna be living here anymore? Well that sucks.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. But the rent is cheaper and I get my own bathroom.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Elise looked at him tremorously. “We’ll miss you.”

Bucky pulled her into a hug. “Yeah. Me too.”

***

Bucky called Steve, arranging to meet at his apartment. When he got there, Steve pretty much pounced on him. “Oh my god, Bucky, are you okay? What’s all this about the Avengers? And why are you holding your arm weird.”

“Tony Stark shot me,” Bucky said ruefully. “Look, it’s a long story, and we really need to talk but you should probably be sitting down for this.”

“Okay?” Steve led Bucky to the sofa where they sat side by side. “So tell me. What’s up?”

“I’ve been lying to you. To everyone. My name isn’t Daniel Travis. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. My birthday is March 10… uh. 1917.”

Steve stared at him before laughing. “1917? That’s impossible. You’d be almost 100 years old by now.”

“It is possible.” Bucky stared at the floor, not wanting to see Steve’s face. “I fought for the allies in World War 2 but was captured by HYDRA. They experimented on me, made me stronger. Faster. Gave me this.” He held up his metal arm. “They also, um. They also brainwashed me. Turned me into an assassin. The things I’ve done… I can never atone. Tony Stark shot me because I was responsible for the death of his parents.” 

“Why?” Steve asked hoarsely. 

“They wanted something he was carrying. I wasn’t supposed to leave witnesses. So I murdered them. I wish to god I hadn’t, but I did.”

“But you weren’t… you?” 

Bucky shook his head. “No. They would wipe me whenever I started to remember who I was. They conditioned me with trigger words, and put me back into cryo when my missions were over. I escaped once and they brought me back, but when everything went down in DC with the helicarriers, I escaped again. Tony and Natasha want me to work with them now. Become an Avenger and take down HYDRA.”

“Are you gonna do it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Maybe in some small way I can pay back the universe for the awful things I did.”

He finally looked up at Steve’s face, only to see Steve looking at him with understanding. “Bucky, those things you did… it wasn’t you.”

“I know,” Bucky replied softly. “But I did them.”

Steve frowned. “Look, I’m not happy you lied to me—I wish you hadn’t—but I understand why you did it. I take it you’re not going to be working at the bar any more?”

“Not after this week, no,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “And I’m moving in to Stark Tower.”

Steve nodded. “And me?”

“Steve, this doesn’t change anything between us. It doesn’t change how I feel about you at all. If you can get past this, then I’d like to keep seeing you, if that’s okay.”

Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek in his palm. “Bucky, that’s more than okay,” he murmured, before leaning in for a deep kiss. 

As they kissed, Steve shifted over, straddling Bucky’s lap and pressing their hips together. Bucky could feel his cock hardening and groaned. 

“Is this why we’ve been taking things so slow?” Steve asked against Bucky's lips. “Because you didn’t want us to have sex while I thought you were someone else?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And now I know who you are?” Steve was smirking slightly, and it was making Bucky want. 

“What do you want, Steve?” 

“I wanna get my mouth on that big, beautiful cock. Been thinking about that since I first saw you in those briefs, and then that night when I saw you naked I couldn’t believe how big you were.”

“You like that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, as Steve slid his hand down Bucky’s chest, pressing against his cock. 

“Fuck, I love it. Love that you’re huge. Can’t wait to feel you inside of me some time.”

“Oh fuck, Steve, yeah, want you to suck me, want to feel that sweet mouth on my cock.”

Steve stood and grabbed Bucky’s hand, leading him through to the bedroom. They stripped quickly—some other time they would take their time with each other, do this properly, but right now they both just wanted to be naked. Steve was naked quicker, and he knelt on the floor in front of Bucky, who was still in his boxers. He leaned forward, sucking at Bucky’s hard cock through the thin fabric, and Bucky moaned. 

Steve pulled Bucky’s boxers down and off, and reached up, stroking lightly at his cock. “Fuck, Bucky, you’re even bigger hard,” Steve said with a delighted laugh. “Oh fuck, can’t wait to ride this.”

He licked a stripe up from Bucky’s balls to the head of his cock, then sucked the head into his mouth, working the base with his hand. Bucky gasped, only just managing to stop himself from thrusting into that warm, wet mouth. 

When Steve dig his tongue into the slit at the head of his cock, Bucky moaned loudly, and Steve pulled off, grinning. “Fuck, you taste so good,” Steve murmured, before going back to sucking Bucky. 

Bucky could feel himself getting close—it had been so fucking long and the sensations were overwhelming him. “Fuck, Steve,” he managed. “I’m gonna come, gonna come, oh my god, Steve, coming, _Steve_!” he cried out, pleasure coursing through him with such intensity that his knees almost buckled. 

Steve swallowed around him, then got to his feet, standing on tiptoes and kissing Bucky deeply. Bucky licked the taste of himself out of Steve’s mouth, and his spent cock twitched slightly. 

“Your turn,” Bucky said with a grin, spitting into his palm and reaching down to stroke Steve’s cock. Steve kissed him, panting against Bucky’s mouth between kisses as Bucky stroked him, spreading the precome over the head and squeezing it gently. 

“Ohhhhh, fuck, Bucky, yeah. Fuck your hand feels so good on me,” Steve whined. “Oh fuck, yeah, don’t stop, oh god, I’m almost there…”

“Yeah, Steve, wanna see you come for me, want you to come all over me,” Bucky murmured. 

“Oh god, fuck, Bucky, gonna come, coming!” and he came with a cry over Bucky’s fist and hip. Bucky kissed him softly, then lifted his hand to his mouth, licking Steve’s come off his fingers. Steve groaned. “Oh Jesus, Bucky, you’re so fucking hot, c’mere.” Steve dragged him into a deep kiss, before pulling back. “Okay, nap time, and then we do this all again when we wake up, got it?”

Bucky nodded, grinning. “Got it.”

They snuggled under the covers together, Steve’s head on Bucky’s chest, and Bucky kissed the top of Steve’s head. He knew he still had a long way to go, but he’d made a start, and as long as Steve was with him, he knew he could face anything.


End file.
